


Unnerved

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new look at what might happen if what we want to happen were to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnerved

**Author's Note:**

> A challenge has been issued. bill0014 has thrown down the gauntlet, by calling me “Aunt Prudence, the cock block” after I interrupted Jack and Phryne, not once but twice (in “Moving On”), before they could—well, you know how I am. And then JackPhryne4eva piled on. Doubtless others will as well.  
> In answer, I pulled out this piece, which I wrote long ago in hopes of making more of it; but I never got the rest of it to work (clever readers may notice some ideas I took and used in other pieces). So I dusted it off, chopped out all the chaff, and here’s what I ended up with. Can pulpriter write a love scene? You’ll be the judge.  
> These characters are not mine, which is good, because I’m Aunt Prudence, the cock block.

The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher was still dressing for the evening when Mr. Butler opened the front door to Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. There were no plans to go out, or to do anything other than to discuss the final details of their latest case (and share a drink together, of course), and yet she was taking particular care to choose her clothing.  
After putting the finishing touches to her glamourous outfit, and giving a last check to her _maquillage_ , Phryne went down the stairs to the parlour.

There stood Jack, his back to her, looking out the large window, lost in thought. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, as they often were. She took a moment to appreciate his silhouette.

She always enjoyed gazing at good-looking or well-built men, and she found Jack to fit both categories—but she never got enough of a chance to just look. He never stood still waiting to be admired, unlike some of the men she had known.

Even so, Phryne had spent many stolen moments looking at Jack. She had long since catalogued the broad shoulders and narrow waist; the dark blue eyes, the lean face; the firm biceps she felt when she took his arm, the muscular legs she had committed to memory at Queenscliff. He could put to shame many of the pretty boys she had brought to her bed. He himself wasn’t pretty; his looks were compelling, his eyes dark and probing, his smiles rare. But it wasn’t his appearance that drew her always back to him.

True, she wanted to feel those strong arms around her, feel that solid body pressed up against her softness; but it wasn’t because of how he looked.  
It was because of who he was.

So many men had taken pleasure in her physical beauty, and for so long that had been enough for her. Jack was not oblivious to her good looks, by any means, but he delighted in her thoughts and ideas in a way that was headily unique in Phryne’s life.

He was the one who listened; the one who challenged; the one who sought to set things right; the one who took responsibility. He dug deep, he struggled, he puzzled, he didn’t let up. She had never looked for such a serious man, but now he was all she wanted.

All she wanted? Oh, no, that couldn’t be right. When her thoughts took this turn, a frisson of fear took root inside. There were so many nice men, good looking, available for a fling, and then out the door with them. They’d be happy enough to go. A few had tried to come back, but she had put an end to that. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Jack was kind, altogether admirable, a pleasure to be with, and an utter threat to her carefully arranged world. It was more and more clear to her that she wouldn’t be able to skate away, once she had taken that step with him.

How could she ever let him stay?  
How could she ever let him go?

She continued to gaze at his silhouette, all these thoughts having flown through her head at the speed of light. Suddenly Jack turned to face her, his eyes alight, his mouth quirking up in part of a smile, as he began engaging her with his latest thoughts and observations. The sheer pleasure of simply being with him washed over her again, and she put her wonderings aside. In no time, they were deep in discussion.

**

Mr. Butler was finishing up in the kitchen when he heard the parlour door open. It occurred to him that it had been very quiet in the parlour for quite some time. He had seen to the comfort of Miss Fisher and the Inspector some time earlier, and had not been called upon since.  
It was uncharacteristically early for the Inspector to be leaving; Mr. Butler hoped nothing had gone wrong. He came to the threshold of the kitchen and was about to step out to see if there was anything they needed. Before he could say a word, he looked down the hallway and saw Miss Fisher entwined around the Inspector. The Inspector cradled her face with his fine long fingers, holding her as if she were a piece of fragile porcelain. Miss Fisher had her fingers fisted in his suit jacket, grasping as if to never let go. Their kiss had transported them far away, where reality could not intrude.

Mr. Butler was grateful he hadn’t been noticed. He approved very much of this. He withdrew quietly and closed the door to the kitchen.

Phryne took Jack’s hands in hers, enticed him toward the stairs, and pulled him into her embrace once more.  
“Jack, please,” Phryne entreated.  
Jack pulled back ever so slightly and tipped his forehead against hers, breathing as if he’d run a marathon. “Phryne, are you sure?”  
“Of course I am.” She paused. “Aren’t you?”  
“You know that I am.” A small part of him worried about what would become of them once this step was taken; but the majority of him had ceased to care. He was lost.  
Moments later, she took his hands again and drew him up the stairs. There was no resistance in him.

**

Much later, Phryne lay her head back on the pillow, and sighed happily.  
She might have guessed he would be so attentive to her wants and needs. She had let herself go in a wild blaze of desire. But before that—well, she couldn’t explain it.

Any other man might have made fun of her. Even now, she wondered at it. She would have been humiliated with someone else, but never at his hands.

_They stepped inside Phryne’s boudoir, and Jack turned to close the door behind him. When he turned back, he saw uncertainty in her eyes. “What is it?” he asked, stepping closer._  
_Phryne bit her lip to stop it trembling. She laid her hands on Jack’s lapels, as she had done so many times before. “I’m afraid.” She tried to give a little laugh. “Isn’t that rich? Me.”_  
_Jack’s face was full of gentle concern. “Tell me why.”_  
_Phryne’s eyes glistened. “What if…what if I…” She couldn’t seem to put it into words._  
_Jack took her hands in his. “Phryne, it’s only me.”_  
_Yes. Only Jack. Only her colleague. Only the one she turned to in times of need. Only the man who dared to value their partnership as much as what her body could offer…_  
_“I don’t know where we go from here, Jack,” she said earnestly._  
_He smiled. “I do.” He pulled her into his embrace, and held her close until she seemed to quiet._  
_In little more than a rough whisper, he said, “Now. Let me love you.”_

And now he drowsed beside her. Darling man.

He hadn’t had any question about what he wanted, and seemed to know what she wanted, as well. Despite the fact that she suspected he’d been a long time without a woman, there hadn’t been any awkward fumbling. It was as if this was just a logical extension of—well, whatever it was that they were to each other. She might have known that once he decided on a plan of action, there was no turning back.

Just then, he heaved a sigh, opened his eyes, and smiled. Heavens, how smug he looked! Well, he was entitled. He pulled her back into his arms, and looked down at her face against his shoulder. “Beautiful Phryne,” he said.  
Phryne reached up to stroke his cheek. “Dear Jack,” she answered. Her face gave away how very dear he was to her, if her mind wouldn’t let her say it.  
Presently, he asked, “Should I be planning to leave?”  
“Oh, it’s so late. Surely there’s no harm in staying a bit longer?” she tempted.  
An eyebrow quirked upwards. “And…if I did, wouldn’t it be even later?”  
Her lips curled into a delighted smile. “Don’t you go being logical.” She loved this part…Where did that thought come from? And since when was her boudoir a place to match wits?  
She let all this go unanswered. Curled into each other, they drifted blissfully in the afterglow of their loving.

When the first smatterings of dawn appeared, Jack disappeared. He had roused beside her, kissed her and told her he should go. He hadn’t been asking. While she fought her way awake, he was pulling on clothes, knotting his necktie, tying shoes. Something in her wanted to cling to him and drag him back to bed, but she settled for pestering him instead. “What are you doing?”  
“Some of us have to work for a living.” He had a smile on his face as he said it.  
“Oh! How can you leave me?” she pouted teasingly.  
He paused while tying the second shoe. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” he answered without looking at her.  
She sensed they had somehow lost the lightness from before. “Surely you wouldn’t have just vanished without a word?”  
His smile reappeared. “You were peacefully sleeping. I thought I’d better take matters into my own hands.”  
“There’s a dangerous phrase! You should have taken me into your own hands instead.”  
“I’ll do that now.” He pulled her, from the warmth of the bed they had shared, against his clothed body.  
Phryne purred and shimmied, and kissed him, and said, “It would have been better before you got dressed.”  
“Without a doubt.”  
She knew he would rise from the side of the bed any instant. “Will I see you later this morning?”  
With more intensity than he had planned, he said, “That will be up to you, of course.” He added, “There’s nothing left to do on this latest case but the paperwork. Maybe you’d like to sign up to do that for me?”  
“At about the same time I put on a policewoman’s uniform.”  
He laughed right out loud, then grimaced at the thought of waking the household. “Please—I don’t think I can stand the idea of that.”  
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay?”  
“Ah, that is not the issue.” He did rise, and it left her feeling empty. “I’ll see myself out.”  
“No, you won’t.” She rose and reached for her embroidered robe, and wrapped it around her. As she did, she could feel the force of his eyes on her. “Come on, then, if you insist on leaving.” She swept to the door and opened it, and took his hand to draw him to the stairs. They went sneaking down the stairs to the front door. When they reached it, Jack turned to her. She tangled her limbs with his, and kissed him again, and pushed his hair off his forehead, and stroked his unshaven face.  
So softly it was almost a whisper, Jack started, “Phryne…”  
“Go on then. I’m sure there’s some reason I’ll need to interrupt your paperwork later this morning.”  
He knew she was preventing him from saying more, and he permitted it. He wasn’t entirely sure what words had been about to follow, anyway—probably unwanted ones. So he responded, “I’m sure I’ll be pleased to be interrupted, whenever you arrive.”  
One last smile was shared, and he turned to leave. When he reached his car, he saw she was still watching; he nodded to her, then got into the car and drove away.


End file.
